


Squiffy

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4836824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ben and Jamie are drunk and Polly is a mother hen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squiffy

She’d not been sleeping, so she hadn’t actually been roused by the noise, but she was certainly startled. She was padding about in her slippers, getting herself a glass of water, when from the control room there came an awful clatter that sounded like something breakable falling over. Sloshing water all over the floor, she pattered frantically down the corridor.

She was half expecting burglars, or – or a platoon of cybermen or something, but it was just Ben and Jamie. Ben was trying clumsily to right one of the Doctor’s funny metal-and-glass instruments while Jamie stood by the console, wheezing with laughter. They were both entirely unfazed to see her. They were both roaring drunk.

“Evening, Duchess,” said Ben, holding the instrument more or less upright.

“Oh, so you’re alive, are you?” said Polly. “I hope you realise we’ve been worrying.” The doors were standing open, letting in a cold draft. She marched over – which was tricky in slippers – and pulled the lever to close them.

“Don’t be such a mother ‘en.” He let go of the instrument. It slipped again. “Whoops! We’ve just been ‘avin a bit of fun.” Jamie was leaning heavily on the console, giggling.

“A bit of fun!” echoed Polly. Standing there, hands on her hips, she felt all the world like an anxious mother, but – oh, well, _someone_ had to be the responsible one. They _would_ make her be Mum. She fumed. “You’re sloshed.”

Jamie said, “dinafashyelf. Ahm’ottish.”

Polly blinked. “Excuse me?”

“M’ottish!”

There was another _crash_ as Ben gave up and let the instrument fall to the floot. “Shh, shh,” he said even though she wasn’t talking. He came up beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder – as much to steady himself as to reassure her, she thought. Ever so sincerely, he said, “shhh. It’s alright. I speak drunk Scotsman.”

“You _what_?”

“’E says you’re not to worry, he can ‘andle it because ‘e’s Scottish.

“Aye, tha’,” said Jamie. Both of them dissolved into giggles.

“I thought you must have got into an accident, or, or been kidnapped,” said Polly. “We were all set to look for you in the morning. You’ve really just been out _boozing_?”

“They’ve got some lethal stuff this century,” said Ben. “Really does a number on you.”

As if on cue, Jamie lost his grip on the console. His legs gave out and he slumped awkwardly to his knees. “Whoops!” He sputtered out a laugh.

“Oh, no.” Ben stumbled over. “C’mon, you.” He took Jamie’s arm and hefted him semi-upright.

Rolling her eyes, Polly took Jamie’s other arm and helped heave him up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“M’fine,” slurred Jamie as they half-dragged him towards the door. “M’ _scottish_.”

“Yeah, mate,” said Ben. “You’re ever so Scottish.”

“You’re just lucky the Doctor isn’t here,” sighed Polly.

Jamie babbled something incomprehensibly Scottish. “Yeah, alright, mate,” said Ben, patting his shoulder. “Tomorrow, alright?”

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” said Polly.

“Because we’re devilishly handsome,” said Ben. “Let’s put this ‘ere lump to bed.”


End file.
